


Wrong, But Oh-So Right

by KindaCrazy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Consensual Underage Sex, Dirty Talk, Incest, M/M, Oral Sex, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KindaCrazy/pseuds/KindaCrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not wrong. It’s not wrong to want him as much as you do. Or, at least that’s what Sam Winchester tells himself. At thirteen, his mind and body are in complete disfunction and it’s in his nature to completely sexualize everyone and every thing, or at least that’s what he tells himself.</p>
<p>*This is a compilation of cohesive but not consecutive one/two-shots I've written about Sam/Dean. Each chapter unless otherwise stated can be read as a stand-alone piece or in conjunction with the other chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first installment in a series of one/two-shots I've written about Sam/Dean. They are not all consecutive, but they all are cohesive and can be read together as a compilation of stories about the boys' relationship.

_**Wrong, But Oh-So Right** _

 

_It’s not wrong. It’s not wrong to want him as much as you do_. Or, at least that’s what Sam Winchester tells himself. At thirteen, his mind and body are in complete disfunction and it’s in his nature to completely sexualize everyone and every thing, or at least that’s what he tells himself.

Sam watches as the object of his not-so-innocent thoughts and of his wet dreams strides through the hallways, chest puffed out like some kind of lion marking his territory. He even has the gall to shoot the younger boy a quick wink before completely bypassing him.

Sam shakes his head and slings his backpack onto his shoulder.

“Your brother, right?” a small voice asks from his left.

“Yeah,” Sam says curtly, swallowing a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball.

Sam looks over at the only ‘friend’ he’s managed to make at this slummy school in who-knows-wheresville— a boy Sam’s age, with dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

“He’s a senior this year, right?” the boy, Brandon, asks, trying to make small talk as the pair walk toward their final classes of the day.

“Yeah,” Sam answers, nodding, thinking about his soccer practice after school— something that actually makes him happy.

Brandon nods, sensing that Sam probably doesn’t want to talk and silently walks alongside him to their English class.

* * *

 

The bell rings signaling the end of class and Sam shoots up out of his seat, trying to get to the locker rooms to change before the rest of the team does.

“Winchester,” Sam’s coach greets him as he walks through the locker room door, heading over to his locker and shucking off his jeans and changing into his uniform quickly.

As the team jogs out to the field, Sam catches a glimpse of one single person sitting in the bleachers, reclined back with his arms leaning on the bleacher behind him. Sam rolls his eyes. As if it wasn’t going to be hard enough focusing on his practice with Dean in his mind every five seconds, and now Sam has to deal with Dean’s lingering eyes.

Sam sighs heavily and takes his place below the goal, resting his hands on his knees, chancing a look up at Dean. Even from afar, Sam can see Dean’s plump bottom lip caught between his teeth and the palm of his hand pressed hard against the zipper on his jeans.

Sam rolls his eyes again. This is what Dean Winchester is good at; Dictating. Sam and Dean aren’t _just_ brothers. It’s not hard to see that. But either nobody has noticed or everyone who has is just following the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ rule.

Sam and Dean are erotically co-dependent on one another, which has led a great deal to the two young boys rationalizing the way they feel. Sam and Dean have been stealing kisses and rutting against each other silently in the dead of the night, Dean muffling his groans of pleasure into Sam’s hair, whispering his praises as quietly as he can, and Sam panting and cursing into his pillow as he grinds back against his brother’s boxer-clad groin for as long as Sam can remember.

But Sam never instigates these situations. It’s always Dean to crowd in behind Sam and whisper in his ear, ‘ _Hey, Sammy, feel that?_ ’ as he slowly circles his hips, pressing his warm hardness into Sam’s butt.

‘ _Yeah, Dean_ ,’ Sam always replies breathlessly, already feeling what seems like every ounce of blood in his body immediately rushing south.

‘ _Fuck, Sammy, Dad’s right behind us_ ,’ Dean always grunts low into Sam’s neck as he bites down on the younger’s collarbone when he starts to feel that tell-tale coiling in the base of his spine. It’s always then that Dean reaches around Sam, snaking his hand into Sam’s sweats, wrapping his long fingers around his aching dick, pumping up and down until—

“Winchester! You play like that in the game tomorrow I’ll bench you!” Sam’s coach yells, making Sam swivel his around to figure out why, realizing almost immediately that the ball got past him and was now lying on the ground by his feet.

Sam cusses under his breath, shooting a glare in the general direction of the bleachers, but avoiding Dean’s eyes directly.

“Sorry, Coach,” Sam groans, tossing the ball overhead back to his coach.

The coach catches the ball one-handed, checking his Adidas watch to see the time.

“Alright, boys! That’s time! Be here three-thirty tomorrow right here on this field so we can kick some Southern ass!”

Sam groans aloud, kicking the metal of the goal frame, sighing even harder when he sees his coach coming toward him as the rest of the team heads back into the locker rooms.

“Alright, Winchester? You were a little off your game today.”

“I know, Coach, sorry. I was just distracted,” Sam replies, digging the tip of his cleat into the grass.

“Your brother up on the stand, right?”

Sam nods.

“Never seen ‘im here before. First time here watching you?”

Sam nods again, trying to convince his coach that that was the reason behind why Sam was distracted.

“I know it’s stressful having people watch you play. But he’s your brother, he’s not gonna nag ya too hard if ya don’t play your best. Plus, ya gotta mean somethin’ to ‘im if he’s here watchin’ ya practice.”

“Thanks, Coach,” Sam gives a lopsided smile and heads over to the bleachers where Dean is still sprawled out on the metal benches.

“Hey, Sammy, go get changed and I’ll take you home,” Dean drawls, his eyes half-lidded, his hand still palming his crotch.

“You alright there, De? Looks like you gotta little problem there,” Sam says, scratching the back of his neck where a steady dribble of sweat is.

“Yeah, Sammy, m’fine. Who knew watchin’ you in your soccer uniform would be such a turn-on,” Dean groans, eyeing Sam up like a Christmas ham. “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t change. I’m really likin’ the uniform.”

“What’s got you all riled up today, De?” Sam asks, taking a slight step back from his unnaturally horny older brother.

“Jus’ you, baby boy. ‘Ts been a while. Don’t even know if I can wait ’til we get back to the motel. Might just follow you into the locker room and—”

By this point, Dean’s eyes have fallen shut, his bottom lip held tight between his teeth, and his hand all but rubbing one out right there out in the open.

“Dean!” Sam, tries, but to no avail. His brother is far too occupied, his mouth fallen open into a _freakingloud_ moan.

Sam shakes his head and jumps down off the bleachers, deciding to leave his brother to his own desires and go change.

Sam gets to his locker and turns the dial to the right numbers before clicking it open and sliding it off, kicking his cleats off in the process.

Sam pulls his jersey off, shoving it into his locker when he hears the heavy outdoor entrance slam open then shut.

_Awesome_ , Sam thinks to himself sarcastically, knowing there was probably a million-to-one chance that that was anyone but Dean.

And that was definitely proven when Sam felt a hand splay across his lower back, effectively pushing the smaller boy against the row of lockers.

“Fuck, Sammy, don’t know what it is about this damn uniform, but it’s fuckin’ hot, baby boy.”

Sam can hear Dean messing with his belt buckle behind him, before shoving his jeans and boxers down to his knees.

Dean fists his hard member a couple of times before spinning his younger brother around so they’re face to face.

Sam moans lightly under his breath at seeing his usually composed brother so strung out and flushed a deep red from the tips of his ears to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean swears, yanking down Sam’s shorts and dropping to his knees.

Dean wraps his lips around the head of Sam’s cock, sucking hard and hollowing his cheeks, gripping the base of his own member tightly to stave off the impending orgasm he could feel building quick.

And then, all at once, Dean swallows Sam down to the hilt, punching out a surprised groan from the younger’s lips that was much louder than Sam intended it to be.

Sam drops his head back against the metal lockers, threading his hands into Dean’s short hair and pulling hard.

Dean groans in his throat, the sound vibrating around Sam’s dick. Sam looks down at his brother, immediately wishing he hadn’t because the sight that greets him is almost too much to handle. Dean’s on his knees, pants pushed down to his knees, his own hand working himself as he uses his mouth on his brother. But more than anything else— the thing that almost has Sam blowing his load far too soon— is Dean is looking right up at Sam, perfect plump lips stretched wide around Sam’s length as he bobs his head in perfect rhythm.

Sam completely gives up on trying to be quiet anymore, knowing that nobody is left in the locker room, and lets loose. Loud doesn’t even begin to cover what Sam sounds like. His labored breathing, moans and groans, and grunts of ‘ _Oh, fuck, that’s it, don’t stop, don’t stop_ ’ and ‘ _God, that’s good. Your fucking mouth, De_.’

And that’s it, when Dean pushes his tongue into the slit and moans around Sam’s dick, Sam can’t take it anymore and he comes. Hard.

Through the haze, damn-near blindness and wobbly legs, Sam barely hears the sound of a door— more specifically, the coach office door— opening.

“Aw, fuck,” Sam cusses, reaching quickly to try and cover himself up, noticing only then that the floor below him was generously coated in Dean’s own spunk.

Momentarily forgetting about the sound of the door, Sam raises an eyebrow down at his still-on-his-knees brother.

“What can I say? Hearin’ you losin’ it made me lose it. Ain’t my fault you’re so fuckin’ sexy,” Dean replies easily, standing up and pulling his pants back up, leaning down to press his mouth hard to Sam’s.

Sam lets out a guttural groan at tasting himself on Dean’s mouth, but gets cut off when he hears a loud throat-clearing coming from behind Dean.

“Winchester! And… Winchester?” Sam’s soccer Coach yells, thoroughly confused, and of course, disgusted by what he had to have just heard and what he definitely just witnessed.

Dean spins around, zipping up his jeans and refastening his belt buckle, only aiding the incestuous nature of what all just happened.

“Shit, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say here,” Sam’s coach says, scratching the back of his head. “I was expectin’ to come out here and see Winchester #2 with some girl and write both of them up for inappropriate extra curricular activities, not… You guys know you’re brothers, right? And what you just did is _illegal_ , right?”

“You’re gonna call our father and have us kicked out of school now, aren’t you, Coach?” Sam asks, knowing exactly what’s coming.

“Sam, I don’t even know _what_ proper protocol would be for catching brothers hooking up in the locker room. I should have you both suspended because sexual activity of any kind is against school code, but I know full-well that it would ruin both of you if I called your father and told him about this. How about this, detention for two weeks for both of you. Every day after school you’ll report out to the soccer fields and redo the lines after practice.”

Sam cocks his head to the side, confused more than anything by the fact that his coach wasn’t kicking him out of school.

“Sam, Dean, I’m the only one here. I know for sure neither one of you are going to ever tell anyone that you’re doing this unless they don’t know you’re brothers. I’m not going to tell anyone. The only thing I’m going to say to you, Sam, is I’m benching you for the game tomorrow. Your head isn’t in the game, and I can see why. I’m putting Robinson on goal, so if that isn’t punishment enough for you, you’re hopeless.”

“But, Coach, Robinson can’t play goal to save his life!”

“And all you’ll be thinking about tomorrow while you watch us lose against Southern is how you couldn’t just wait until you got home. Alright, now, go on, get, both of you before I change my mind.”

Dean mock salutes and reaches into Sam’s locker, pulling out his jeans and t-shirt, shoving them at his brother’s still-bare chest before beginning to head out the back door alongside said brother.

But of course, even though he’s somewhat off the hook, Dean just has to prove that he isn’t ashamed or regretful of anything when it comes to Sammy by smacking the younger’s backside, turning his head to send a classic Dean Winchester half-smile back at Sam’s coach.

Faintly behind the two boys, Sam can hear his coach’s voice say, “There better only be two Winchesters. I’m goin’ grey just from the two I got.”


	2. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No, Sammy, I told you, not until you're sixteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second installation of the compilation of cohesive Wincest fics.

_**Wrong, But Oh-So Right** _

 

"Dean, I want it." Sam's voice is wrecked, and his legs fall even further apart to make room for his big brother's hungry eyes.

Dean licks his lips like he's staring at a prime rib and catches his bottom lip between his teeth, just watching.

Sam is lying on one of the two queen beds in their motel room, completely stung out and wanting while Dean just watches.

"Touch yourself, Sammy," Dean orders, lazily pumping his own fist up and down his shaft.

Sam immediately obeys, snaking his hand down his chest and wrapping lanky fingers around his cock.

Sam's head falls back onto his pillow, glad to finally be allowed to touch himself.

Sam looks down between his legs and sees the head of his dick poking through his fist on every downward stroke, an angry purple shade by this point.

The boys have been at this for what Sam thinks is hours, but in reality is only an hour and a half. Sam has been lying on the bed, naked and wanting for what he feels like is forever, all while Dean just watches. He watches like Sam is the best porn he's ever seen, eyes glued to his brother's flushed face.

"Dean, please," Sam begs. At this point, Sam is definitely not above begging.

"Tell me what you want, Sammy," Dean begins, head tipping back slightly when his thumb runs over the bundle of nerves below the head of his cock. "And you can have it."

"Your mouth, De. I want--"

Dean lunges onto the bed with Sam, shoving it back against the wall with a hard thud as his body completely blankets Sam's. Dean thrusts his own hardness against his brother's, eliciting a moan worthy of a porn star from the younger's mouth.

"Fuck, Sammy, you got me wantin' to do all kinds-a things to you," Dean says, thrusting again, now starting up a rhythm that nearly has his brain short-circuiting.

"We got time," Sam pushes, grabbing Dean by the hair and forcing his head down onto his own cock.

Even at thirteen, Sam could just say the word and Dean would fall to his knees and suck him like his life depended on it. Sure, Sam never instigates this when it happens, but that sure don't mean he doesn't know how to get Dean just as crazy for it as he is.

"Yeah, De, that's it," Sam drawls, fisting Dean's hair tightly. "Fuck, big brother-- want you so bad."

Dean moans around Sam's dick, humping himself against the bed to gain some much-needed friction at just hearing Sam call him that. "Big brother". It never fails to nearly make Dean come just from hearing it.

Right as he can feel Sam starting to lose it, Dean pulls off, gripping the base of Sam's prick to cut it off.

"Deeeaan," Sam whines, pulling Dean back to him and kissing him hard.

"What do you want, Sammy? Say it and you can have it," Dean promises, pressing his lips to the hollow of Sam's neck and sucking hard, leaving a purple-red bruise in his wake.

"I want...," Sam trails off, bucking his hips up into Dean's. "I want you to fuck me."

Just the fact that Sam can even say it without skipping proves that his brother is far more corrupted than any thirteen year-old should be.

"No, Sammy, I told you, not until you're sixteen," Dean gives the same answer he always does, pretending that just the thought of being buried to the hilt inside his little brother doesn't almost make him come.

"But, De, I want it, I want you," Sam whines, pulling Dean's head down so he can whisper in his ear. "I want you inside me, all of you. Please, big brother, please."

Dean wants to, fuck does he want to, but he has to stand his ground. At sixteen, Sam can legally consent to sex and at which point, Dean will give Sam a choice. If he still wants it, he can have it-- but only after his sixteenth birthday.

"Please, De," Sam begs, grabbing for his brother's hand.

Dean doesn't quite understand what Sam's doing, but follows where Sam guides him, genuinely whimpering with need when he realizes.

Sam folds down Dean's pinky finger and his thumb before pressing the tips of the remaining three into his hole. Dean slides his fingers in with ease, his eyes all but rolling out of his head at knowing that his baby brother had opened himself up in hopes of finally getting Dean to give into him.

Dean pumps his fingers in and out a couple of times, watching Sam's face contort with pleasure, his free hand flying to his own dick quickly to grip the base.

"Aw, fuck. Sammy, when--"

"Before you got home. Please, De, I'm ready," Sam pleads, canting his hips to push down further on Dean's fingers.

Dean leans down and bites lightly into the soft flesh of Sam's thigh, trying to compose himself, battling through wanting to more than anything, but knowing he can't.

At seventeen, Dean barely has control over his own body, let alone someone else's.

"S-Sa-ammy, n-no," Dean stutters, trying to will himself to pull his fingers out, but instead he crooks the tips of his fingers, searching for that spot inside that would make his baby brother see stars.

"Fuck, Dean, feels so good. Love your fingers inside me," Sam groans, still pushing back to try and impale himself on Dean's fingers.

"Dammit, Sammy, makin' this real hard for me," Dean sighs, pulling his fingers out almost all the way before slamming them back in, hitting what he knows was Sam's prostate head on.

Sam's back arches off the bed as long, thick ropes of come pulse out of his dick, landing nearly everywhere, including on Sam's face and mouth.

As soon as Sam can will his legs to work again, he kneels up, sliding his brother's fingers out and maneuvers so he's barely an inch away from said brother. Dean looks a mix of incredibly worried and extremely turned on and he's slightly worried about what Sam's going to do next, if only for the simple reason that Dean isn't sure he can tell Sam 'no' after that.

Sam's tongue pokes out of his mouth, circling around his kiss-swollen lips and mops up every bit of his own release that he can reach.

"Shit, baby boy, you make it real hard to say no," Dean sighs, beginning to stroke himself as he talks, using is free hand to hold tightly onto Sam's hip.

"That's the point, De," Sam grins a Cheshire smile and bats Dean's hand on his dick out of the way, replacing it with his own. "But I won't force you to do something you don't want to, so I guess I'll wait."

Dean rolls his head back, his breathing starting to be on this side of erratic.

"Fuck, Sammy, I want to. Want to so bad. But I gotta do the right thing here," Dean sighs, feeling the muscles in his back start to tighten and his toes start to curl.

"But 'right' is subjective. Right to me would be straddling you and riding this huge cock of yours like the slut for you I am."

And that's when Dean lets go, shooting his release to land all over Sam's chest and groin.

"Holy fuck, Sammy, your fucking mouth!"

Sam lets Dean's now soft prick go and uses his hand for something he finds far more useful.

Sam scoops up a generous amount from where Dean's spunk landed and sucks his finger dry, his eyes closing in contentment.

"Mmm, taste good, De," Sam moans, his pupils blown wide with lust as he leans in closer to whisper in Dean's ear. "Bet it'd be better fillin' me up, though."

And with that, Sam hops off the bed, continuing to shovel Dean's come into his mouth until at least his groin is clear of any trace.

"You are such a little cock tease, Sammy," Dean laughs, turning around to face his brother. "Two and a half more years, Sammy. I promise, if you still want it, you can have it then."

Sam climbs up onto Dean's lap, straddling him like he said he would with Dean's suddenly interested again cock resting against Sam's crack.

"I do want it, De, but I'll wait if it'll make you feel better," Sam grinds down, rubbing himself against Dean's prick.

"Dammit, Sammy, you make it so hard for me to turn you away," Dean thrusts up, his cock rubbing against Sam's crack and tailbone.

"How's a shower sound, big brother? Seems like we could both use a cold one."


	3. When Dad Comes Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sammy still gets nightmares. It helps him— knowing someone’s not far away,” Dean out-right lies.  
> “He’s almost fourteen, Dean. He’ll live. No seventeen year-old I know wants to sleep in the same bed as his younger brother,” John starts heading toward the bathroom, scratching the back of his head.  
> “Most seventeen year-olds don’t live out of motels.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third installment of the compilation of cohesive but not consecutive Sam/Dean fics.

_**When Dad Comes Home** _

 

Sam’s adrenaline level is running high, and his heart is pounding in his chest, not to mention he’s practically quivering with need. Dad’s been gone all day, leaving his sons to fend for themselves— as per usual. But of course, neither boy minds much as their day has been spent much the same as any other day John isn’t home.

The day began with a not-so-quick shower that resulted in Sam pressed hard against the tile while Dean practically fucked his mouth with his tongue, jacking both of their cocks together in his right hand.

Once both boys decided to finally get out of the shower, Dean made an easy breakfast of microwave waffles and milk and settled in for a day of nothing but Sam.

Sam is pulled back to the present, though, by Dean’s middle finger of his left hand pressing firmly against the tight ring of muscle of Sam’s backside before pushing inside up to the first knuckle.

Sam bucks his hips forward, bringing his pajama pant-clad erection in contact with a similar situation of Dean’s, his eyes rolling back in his head at the amount of stimulation happening to his body.

The slow grind of Dean’s hips against Sam’s own, the in-and-out motion of Dean’s finger inside him and last but certainly not least, Dean’s expert mouth working it’s wonders with Sam’s. Sam thinks he could probably get off solely from kissing Dean. Sam knows he’s definitely not the only person Dean’s ever kissed, but fuck if it doesn’t make Sam want Dean even more.

“Mine,” Sam groans, pulling his brother as close to him as he can.

“What was that, Sammy?” Dean asks rhetorically, pushing a second finger in alongside the one already inside Sam.

“Fuck! Said you’re mine, De,” Sam answers, loving the slight burn of Dean’s fingers inside him.

Dean doesn’t finger Sam often for the simple reason that he doesn’t want Sam to think he’s on his way to giving up on the one and only rule Dean has when it comes to Sam— No penetrative sex until Sam’s sixteenth birthday— but when he does, he can’t help but want to every second of the day. The sounds Sam makes and the way his body twitches and sucks his fingers in deeper is utterly addictive.

“Yeah, Sammy, yours. ‘Long as you’re mine.” Dean pumps his fingers in and out, in and out, dipping his head down to suck a dark red-purple bruise into Sam’s collarbone— a place that could easily be hidden from their father, but also a place that could be seen perfectly when Sam took his shirt off. (Particularly for soccer practice)

Sam effectively shuts Dean up by pressing their lips back together, shoving Dean onto his back and swinging his own leg over so he’s straddling his brother.

The unoccupied hand of Dean’s grips tightly into Sam’s hair, pulling just this side of painful while his other hand continues it’s ministrations. Dean bucks his hips upward against his brother’s and Dean can’t help but feel slightly drunk— drunk on Sam.

But Dean’s ears perk up and his eyes fly open when he hears an all too familiar sound— The rumbling hum of one 1967 Chevy Impala’s engine.

Dean pulls Sam back as gently as he can by his hair, slipping his fingers out of his brother with an obscenely vulgar pop, muttering a quick, “Shit, Dad’s home,” as he does.

Sam rolls quickly off of his brother, pulling up the thin motel comforter up to his chin and rolling onto his side, back facing Dean, to cover the hickey on his chest in the easiest way possible. Sam slams his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep.

Dean reaches out for the TV clicker and turns it on, not too worried about what exactly was on the TV, as long as it wasn’t Dean finger-fucking his baby brother.

The motel door swings open and hits the wall behind it as John Winchester steps through the threshold, dropping the motel key on the small table beside the door.

“Dean, you know there’s two beds in here for a reason, right? No reason for you and Sam to be sleepin’ in the same bed if I’m not here,” John grumbles, shucking his jacket off and kicking his boots under Dean’s side of the bed.

“Sammy still gets nightmares. It helps him— knowing someone’s not far away,” Dean out-right lies.

“He’s almost fourteen, Dean. He’ll live. No seventeen year-old I know wants to sleep in the same bed as his younger brother,” John starts heading toward the bathroom, scratching the back of his head.

“Most seventeen year-olds don’t live out of motels.”

Dean knows it’s so out of character for him to talk back to his father, but dammit, he interrupted something pretty damn important. Hell, everyone’s cranky when they can’t get laid. Or, well, as close as Dean will get anyway.

John huffs and stomps into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Dean hears the shower head sputter to life and immediately rolls to the side, pressing himself tightly against his brother’s back.

“He’s got some fuckin’ timing, huh, Sammy?” Dean whispers into Sam’s ear, snaking his hand around to see if Sam’s still as rock hard as he is.

Sam whimpers—fucking whimpers— when Dean’s hand comes into contact with his straining dick through his pajama pants.

"Don't worry, baby, I gotcha," Dean says lowly into Sam's ear, stroking his cock almost painfully slow."Gonna make you feel so good you can't take it."

Sam moans lightly under his breath, jerking his hips and fucking up into Dean's fist.

Dean pushes Sam's pajama pants down, just enough to be below his butt, following shortly by his own. Dean slides even closer to his brother, pressing his cock tightly in between Sam's cheeks.

"You don't know how bad I just wanna push my dick inside you, Sammy," Dean mutters, pushing three fingers inside his brother all at once. "But I can't, baby."

Dean's hand speeds up on Sam's cock and he starts to pump his fingers in and out again.

"But if I could," Dean starts, loving the little whimpers and moans Sam's letting out. "I'd open you up nice and slow, first my fingers, then my tongue, pushing in and out until you're good and ready, all wet and stretched for me. I'd do only the head first, push in slowly, crying out loud at how tight you'd be."

Sam is all but shaking now, his entire body vibrating and thrumming with need. Dean's got quite a mouth on him, and when gets to talking, there ain't no stopping him.

"I know I'd want to just push in in one long slide, but I'd go slow for you. Inch, by inch, I'd do it, before drawing back out, just to do it again." Sam's head tilts back, his mouth open wide in a silent moan. He's getting close and Dean can tell. "You'd love that, Sammy, wouldn't you? Me inside you, pumping in and out. I think you’d come first, screaming my name, 'Dean! Dean!' But I wouldn't be far behind. I'd feel it like no other, the warm coiling in my back, toes curling until I just do it-- filling you up with my come."

"D-De-ean, I-m'gonna--" Sam stops short, feeling his entire body stiffen before relaxing completely, letting his orgasm wash over him in waves.

"Mmm, that's right, baby, come for me, come for your brother," Dean orders, stroking Sam through it. It's then that Dean hears the shower turn off and the curtain being slid aside.

Dean pulls his come-covered hand away from his brother, making a mental note to definitely not let that go to waste, sliding back into the same position he was in when John entered the bathroom.

"Alright, Dean, I'm going to the bar down the road, don't know when I'll be back," John says, lacing his boots back up and shoving his feet into them. "And, Dean, use the other damn bed tonight."

Dean groans and uses his right hand (the somewhat clean one, if not for the fact that three of his fingers were inside his brother not two minutes ago) and salutes, somewhat relieved by the fact that John was leaving again. He needed time with his Sammy.

The motel room door closes with a click and the Impala's engine grumbles to life before fading off into the distance.

And as soon as any trace of the Impala is gone, Dean yanks his left hand out from under the covers, sucking each finger into his mouth one at a time, his right hand jacking himself off. The burst of saltiness and Sam that erupts on his tongue has him moaning and groaning in two seconds flat.

"Like that, De? Sucking my come off your fingers?" Dean hears Sam ask as he rolls over, watching Dean. “Damn, De, look so hot like this.”

Dean finishes cleaning his fingers, making sure to get every last drop before reaching his hand out to drag Sam back on top of him in much the same manner as he was before.

Sam sits upright on Dean’s lap, rotating his hips in big circles, looking nowhere but Dean’s face. Dean’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his eyes are tightly closed. A deep red flush covers most of Dean’s chest and neck and up to the tips of his ears.

Sam rubs his hands up and down Dean’s chest like he knows his brother likes and continues circling his hips, drinking in the utterly delicious sounds his brother is making.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groans, bucking up against his brother. “Gonna make me come, baby.”

And as if on cue, Dean’s back arches and his mouth falls open, a wall-crumbling moan falling from his lips. Sam smirks to himself at feeling Dean’s pajama pants below him start to soak through. Once Dean can find the strength to open his eyes again and focus in on his brother.

Sam chuckles to himself before saying, “So, De, y’think Dad heard you down the street?”

Dean laughs along, “Shuddup.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! And to those who don't celebrate Christmas, I hope you all had/have a wonderful holiday, whichever you happen to celebrate.


	4. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam exhales heavily, both arms warped tightly around Dean before saying, "Dean, despite you never being one to wait to be in love with someone before jumping into bed with them, that doesn't mean that I'm not. And I think I should know when I love someone enough. And I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the fourth installment in the compilation of cohesive but not consecutive Sam/Dean stories.

_**Touch** _

* * *

 

It's no little known fact that Dean Winchester is a horny bastard-- Particularly when it comes to a certain brown-haired someone.

Dean's left hand is bracing tightly against the tiles in the shower while the other lazily pumps his ever-hardening cock.

Dean likes days like this-- Days when he can take care of himself slowly, leisurely. Days when he lets his orgasm build as build and build until he comes with a shout.

The hot water beats down against Dean's back, the heat only heightening every sensation he's already feeling.

Dean's mouth falls open slightly, letting a low, genuine moan of pleasure slip out as his legs almost unconsciously spread a little further apart.

Dean likes that he can do this. That he can have time to himself, as well as with his Sammy.

"Sammy," Dean groans, pumping himself slowly.

Dean lets out a string of cusses as he works himself, not even bothering to stay quiet.

Sam wouldn't be home from soccer practice until four and John was still out hunting a werewolf a few hours north, so Dean had plenty of time to draw this out.

"Oh, fucking hell," Dean almost shouts at a particularly good stroke, his eyes slamming shut as his free hand all but claws at the shower tiles.

Dean's breathing is getting quick and he's getting close, despite his trying to go slow.

Dean's mind begins to flood with thoughts of the one person that could make him come like a freight train with just a look and as if Dean wasn't holding back already, he can't stop the sounds he's making if he wants to.

Dean's sure the people in the motel room next over and probably the one next over from that can hear him. Dean's positive they can, but that doesn't make him stop for a second.

Dean's legs are trembling and his hand starts to speed up, his cock slick from the water and the steady flow of pre-come flooding from his cock.

Dean's practically yelling by this point, his entire body almost convulsing with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! Fuck! Ah, Sammy! Sammy!" Dean yells, finally shooting his load all over the shower tiles.

It feels like Dean is coming for forever, rope after rope shooting from him until it finally stops.

Dean's breathing is almost back to normal by the time he's done rinsing himself off, the water having gone cold by now.

Dean twists the water off and steps out of the shower, drying off quickly, avoiding his over-sensitive dick with the towel as much as he can.

Dean redresses back into a pair of jeans and a worn through Zeppelin t-shirt before attempting to towel-dry as much of his hair as he can.

But as soon as he steps out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam erupting behind him, he drops the towel, his entire body stiffening,

"Sammy... Y-you're early." Dean stutters, now entirely too self-conscious of what he just did.

"It's four-twenty, De," Sam chuckles, resting his head on his arms as he lays on one of the two queens in their motel room.

Sam's still wearing his soccer shorts, but not the shirt and he's still covered in a light sheen of sweat from practice, his skin glistening ever so slightly.

Sam slowly stands, a devious grin plastered across his face. Every step is slow and even, drawn out until Sam is only a few inches from where his older brother stands.

"Heard you all the way outside," Sam states lowly, his eyes glued to Dean's.

Dean gulps hard. Sam's never had a problem with Dean taking care of himself on his own, and Dean's sure he still doesn't, which can only mean Sam has something in mind up in his twisted little head.

Sam quirks a half-smile that would almost out his brother to shame and fists Dean's t-shirt, pulling him closer.

"Gonna show you somethin', De," Sam murmurs as his lips attack the hollow of Dean's neck, pulling a rough groan from the older hunter.

"Sammy...," Dean breathes, lightly pushing Sam backward toward the bed until the backs of Sam's knees hit the frame.

Sam flops backward, crawling back until his head is resting on the pillows, watching hungrily as Dean crawls on along with him, bracing his arms on either side of Sam's head.

"Gonna show me somethin'?" Dean asks, remembering what Sam had said.

Without a word, Sam bucks upward, bringing his completely painfully hard cock in contact with Dean's stomach, a wall-cracking moan falling from his lips at the friction he sodesperately needed.

"Hearin' you in the shower, almost lost it more than once. Didn't even touch m'self. God, De, so fuckin' hot."

Dean doesn't reply, just grinds his slowly hardening again cock against his brother, grabbing Sam's hair in a handful as he finally-- fucking finally-- gets his mouth on Sam's. Sam groans into

Dean's mouth before it's cut short by Dean's tongue snaking its way in.

"Fuck, De, gonna make me come in my shorts," Sam moans, pulling on Dean's hair tightly as he rocks upward against his brother.

"Not exactly, Sammy," Dean laughs lightly, both of his hands quickly working Sam's shorts and boxers down around his ankles.

Dean lifts his own t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side so Sam can have the skin on skin that Dean knows he loves as he dips his head lower to bite and suck at Sam's collarbone, leaving angry purple marks in his wake.

"Shit, De, love when you do that," Sam says, feeling his dick twitch against Dean's stomach.

As Dean kisses and licks and sucks and bites his way down Sam's chest, Sam is reduced to a squirming, wriggling mess, his mouth open in a silent moan.

After what feels like years, Dean finally does what he's been intending to do, taking Sam's cock into his mouth and sucking hard as he swallows him down to the base.

Sam's hips buck up, trying to reach more of that amazing mouth of Dean's, but Dean's hand reaches up and splays across Sam's upper pelvis, holding him steady.

"Fuck, dammit, De, your fuckin' mouth!" Sam yells, fisting Dean's short hair tightly.

Dean hollows out his cheeks, bobbing his head quickly, reaching down further to trace a dry finger around Sam's hole.

And just like that, it's over for Sam. He comes with a shout, holding Dean's head down hard until he's done-- and Dean takes every bit of it, not spilling even a drop of Sam's come.

Dean swallows audibly, maintaining eye contact with his brother as he does, knowing full-well that Sam loves it when Dean swallows.

Sam honest-to-God whimpers, eyes fixed on Dean before he almost unconsciously lurches forward, tackling Dean down, straddling his hips and pinning his arms above his head.

Dean bites his bottom lip hard to keep from groaning aloud, instead bucking his hips up into Sam.

"Sammy..," Dean breathes, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breaths.

Sam cranes his neck down, sucking a deep red bruise right into the side of Dean's neck, knowing it'll be impossible to hide when Dad got come later.

"Oh, fuck, baby boy."

Sam smirks against Dean's neck before moving further down his brother's body. Sam completely bypasses Dean's chest, although Dean loves it when his chest is given attention too, in favor of completely engulfing Dean's now fully hard prick in his mouth.

"Oh, man, baby, look so sexy like this," Dean groans, his fingers threading into Sam's hair. "Look so hot with my cock in your mouth, lips stretched wide to take it all. Always take it so perfect, baby."

Dean starts to thrust shallowly into the wet heat, his eyes half-lidded somewhere between wanting to slam them shut and fuck Sam's mouth as hard as he can and wanting to keep his eyes focused on Sam and how his cock disappears in and out of Sam's gorgeous mouth.

"That fuckin' mouth is gonna be the death of me, baby, fuck," Dean almost yells, his fingers tightening in Sam's hair as Sam pushes his tongue into Dean's slit to gather the small beads of pre-come there. "Dammit, Sammy, want you so bad. Wanna be inside you, fuck, I want to. Wanna fuck you so bad, Sammy. God!"

Dean's resistance breaks after about another minute of Sam sucking him, shooting his load straight down his baby brother's throat.

Sam swallows, releasing Dean's dick from his mouth as he slides up next to Dean, flopping down on his back.

Dean's eyes are closed as his chest heaves, attempting to right his breathing, a small half-smile playing on his lips.

"So, De, did you mean it?" Sam asks when his post-orgasmic high fades, his voice shy and shaky.

"Hmm?"

"What you were sayin'. Did you mean it or we're you jus' talkin'?"

Dean sighs, realizing what Sam was referring to, rolling onto his side to look directly at his brother.

"Never jus' talkin', Sam. If I say it, I mean it," Dean answers, pushing a small chunk of sweat-matted hair out of the younger's face.

"Then why are you so adamant about waiting until I'm sixteen? If I don't care, you shouldn't."

Dean frowns.

"You know why, Sammy."

Sam huffs, doing what Dean knows to be Sam's way of trying to shut Dean out my sliding his now naked self underneath the thin motel blanket and pulling it up to his chin.

"Yeah, because legally if I'm under the age of consent it's stat rape. But, De, when have we ever cared about doing anything the legal way, because in case you didn't notice, incest is illegal in every state apart from New Jersey."

Dean chuckles lightly, "Walking encyclopedia of weird, Sammy."

"Shuddup, De, you're not avoiding this."

Dean groans aloud, sliding himself under the motel blanket beside his brother, pulling him closer to nuzzle his nose into Sam's hair.

"Sammy, you're the most important thing in the world to me. I fucked up so bad by even wanting you the way I do-- nevermind taking your damn virginity. Not yet, Sammy. Not until  
you're sixteen. Please, baby?"

Sam exhales heavily, both arms warped tightly around Dean before saying, "Dean, despite you never being one to wait to be in love with someone before jumping into bed with them, that doesn't mean that I'm not. And I think I should know when I love someone enough. And I do."

Dean couldn't argue. Well, he couldn't really say anything. Sam had made a good point. But it wasn't enough. Dean had made the golden rule after the first time he and Sam crossed over that 'just brothers' line and he is determined to stick to it. End of story.

"I love you too, Sammy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a hot minute to get out. Sorry. Either way, I hope ya'll enjoyed.


	5. Voyeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Damn, Sammy, all I kept thinking was that you were right there, watching. Such a fuckin' turn on."

_**Voyeur** _

* * *

 

 

Sam's seen this scene played out in front of him a number of times-- granted, usually it's porn, and certainly not starring his older brother, but this is surely not the first time he's seen a girl getting fingered.

And seeing as Sam and said older brother happen to be rather romantically involved, Sam should be far less turned on than he is.

Watching Dean with Emma or Emily or whatever the hell her name is shouldn't be making him hard as diamonds.

Hearing her soft little moans while he rubs her clit shouldn't be making him want to jump Dean's bones like it is.

Sam presses the heel of his palm to his crotch, shifting awkwardly and as quietly as possible so as not to ruin the show in front of him.

The girl with Dean is looking rather undignified, her legs spread wide as she sits on the sofa, letting Dean have his way with her. His hand is shoved down her jeans, the veins in his wrist and forearm bulging.

She has one perfectly manicured hand clawing at his bicep, holding on for dear life, the other pulling on his short hair, holding his face to hers.

Her hips cant up every once in a while, seeking more friction as Dean's tongue plunges in and out of her mouth.

Dean's other hand (the one NOT shoved down what's-her-name's pants) is groping at her breast, thumb flicking over her bra-covered nipple.

"Oh, God, Dean," the girl moans, her head tipping back against the backrest for a split second before rejoining her mouth to Dean's.

"Told you I'd take care of you, Em," Dean says in that way too seductive voice of his.

Dean withdrawals his hand, punching a whimper of loss out of Em's throat before he pops the button on her jeans open, along with the button on his own.

"You okay?" Dean asks, easing her down so she's laying on her back.

Em nods, watching intently while Dean strips himself of shirt and shimmies out of his jeans.

Sam has to bite his tongue to keep from moaning too loud at seeing his hotter-than-hell brother mostly naked.

But that's not even the best part about this; Dean knows Sam's not ten feet away, watching him through the slightly cracked bathroom door of their motel.

Dean leans down to kiss his way down Em's neck, sliding her jeans down in the process so she's completely naked apart from her bra.

Em's back arches into Dean's touch just as Sam's always does.

Dean slips his boxer briefs down and off, his erection springing up and smacking his stomach with a wet thud. Dean fists himself a few times before reaching underneath the motel sofa, pulling out a condom from where he'd stashed them. Dean rips the packet open with his teeth and hands it to Em, positioning himself above her while she rolls the condom on.

"Mmm, can't wait until cheer practice tomorrow when I can tell the rest of the squad that I slept with Dean Winchester," Em laughs as Dean lines himself up and starts to push in.

"Ah, bet they'll be jealous," Dean breathes as he bottoms out, groaning low in his throat.

"Hell yeah," Em says, meeting Dean's slow thrusts with tilts of her hips. "Every girl on that team wishes they were me right now."

Both Em and Dean quiet quickly, only soft moans from her, guttural grunts from him and the slap of skin on skin can be heard through the bathroom door.

Sam's now painfully hard cock twitches, jealous of Em's pussy for getting what he wants so badly.

Sam watches his brother's hips pump as he fucks into Em, her small frame sliding up on the sofa with every thrust.

Part of Sam wants to tear his brother off of the girl and offer himself up as replacement for Em's cunt, even knowing Dean wouldn't. ("Not until you're sixteen, Sammy.") But another part of Sam wants to keep watching, keep up his voyeurism until he creams his pants-- which at this rate is going to happen way too soon.

Em's moans grow louder and Dean's grunts gain speed as both near orgasm, Dean's body curling over her as his hands grip at the armrest.

Sam exhales heavily, realizing that there's a complete parallel with the way Dean performs with Em, a petite cheerleader, and the way he does with Sam, his fourteen-year-old brother.

With Em, Dean seems quiet and reserved, focusing completely on his own pleasure. Dean Winchester may be the spokesperson for hedonism on any regular day, but with a girl-- he's even more so.

With Sam, while eventually coming is on the agenda, it's important to Dean to get Sam there first. With Sam, Dean's an uncontrollable, unrestrained talker. Dean loves to talk, to drive Sam wild with his words.

It's over for Dean and Em too soon for Sam's liking, but seeing his brother's face contort with pleasure is repayment enough. Seeing Dean come is one of Sam's favorite things in the world-- probably his favorite, second only to Dean himself.

Dean slowly pulls out of Em, sliding the condom off and tying it off as he slips his boxers back on, silently.

"Wow, any chance we'll be doing this again?" Em asks, her chest heaving.

"I think I could be persuaded. Just not tonight. My brother's gonna be home any minute," Dean lies, standing up right and tossing the used condom into the waste basket in the kitchenette.

"Well, then, I'll see you in school tomorrow, Dean," Em smiles, gathering her clothes up and proceeding to dress quickly, her face turned slightly downward as if she was hopeful of a round two.

Dean leans toward her, giving her a signature Dean Winchester sexy half-smile (at that, Sam's breath hitches) and presses his lips lightly to hers.

"C'mon, sweetheart, you know I'm not a hit-it-and-quit-it guy."

_Yes, you are_ , Sam thinks, chuckling quietly to himself.

"I know. Bye, Dean," she says, kissing him again one last time before heading out the motel's front door.

Before he even realizes his feet are moving, Sam is in the living room, gripping tightly to his brother's bare bicep.

A sly smile spreads its way across Dean's flawless face, realizing immediately that Sam highly enjoyed the performance he just made-- if the crimson flush over his cheeks, neck and the tips of his ears and the rather evident tent in his jeans says anything.

"You little voyeur, baby boy. You fuckin' loved that, didn't you?" Dean says easily, turning the boys around so Dean's in control, pushing Sam backwards toward the bed.

"God, De, want you so bad," Sam whimpers, letting Dean guide him right where he wants him.

And suddenly, Sam's feet are lifted off the ground and he instinctively wraps his legs tightly around his brother. Dean bobs his head forward, catching Sam's lips in a kiss that's mostly teeth and tongue, drinking down the needy moans Sam lets out.

"Damn, Sammy, all I kept thinking was that you were right there, watching. Such a fuckin' turn on."

Sam breaks away from Dean's lips for a split second to groan low against Dean's chest.

"De, y-you gotta do s-somethin', 'm gonna cream my pants 'f you don't."

And at that, Dean drops Sam down onto the bed, crawling on so he's hovering over him.

Dean lines them up and grinds himself down against Sam's cock, giving his brother the much needed friction he's been begging for. Sam's head tosses back and his hips jerk up to meet Dean thrust for thrust, broken whines and moans falling uncontrollably from his lips.

"Holy fuck, Sammy, I jus' came and you're already makin' me hard enough to pound nails," Dean grunts, leaning down to suck a deep purple mark into the side of Sam's neck.

"Oh, Dean," Sam whimpers, clawing at his brother's short hair, pulling at it because he has to do _something_.

"Dean! Dean! 'M gonna, fuck, 'm gonna--!"

And that's it for Sam; his head throws back and his hips snap up, legs shaking with the force of his orgasm.

Dean continues to rut against Sam, working him through his coital bliss.

At feeling the twitch of his baby brother's cock against him and the patch of wet begin to spread across the front of Sam's jeans, Dean lets go, finishing for the second time tonight.

"Aw, fuck, Sammy."

Dean slumps down over his brother, petting lightly at Sam's sweat-matted hair before rolling onto his back next to Sam.

"Shit, baby, tha' was awesome," Dean says between ragged breaths, reaching over to take Sam's smaller hand in his. "I love you, Sammy."

"Me too, De."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that surely took a while to get out. Hope ya'll enjoyed this chapter! I liked this one a lot.


	6. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So incredibly sorry this chapter took so long to get out! When I say I started this chapter about a week after I posted the last one and finished it four days ago, I'm not kidding. It took that long.

_**Shatter** _

* * *

 

 

The day Sam caught Dean with anther guy was the day Sam's heart shattered in his chest. He could practically feel it too-- all functionality in his brain short-circuiting the second Dean's eyes met his, hands clawing at Andrew Young's back through his t-shirt.

Sure, he'd watched Dean fuck that girl, Em, but this was different. This was another _guy_.

It was during Sam's period eight gym class and Coach Pearson decided to take the class outside for softball.

Wesley Baker had hit the ball a little too hard and it had bounced over the fence and under the bleachers set up on either sides of the soccer field about ten yards out, so Coach Pearson yelled for Sam to go get it as he reached into his bag for another.

Sam took his time, walking slowly, knowing he would rather be playing soccer than softball. Sam heard some rustling under the bleachers by the soccer field, but chalked it up to probably being a bird or a squirrel and continued walking-- but oh, he wishes he hadn't.

"Jesus," the moan was breathy and quiet, but loud in the damn-near silence of the soccer fields.

Sam debated continuing on to get the ball, deciding he'd just tell Coach Pearson that he couldn't find it-- until he heard a voice he'd know anywhere.

"Fuck, 'Drew."

Dean. _Dean_.

Sam's mind flicked into overdrive, his blood coursing through his veins like fire by the time he stepped around the bend, ducking his head under the bleachers to get the ball.

Dean's eyes were closed--he hadn't seen Sam yet-- and his neck was just about littered with hickies (a few of which Sam recognized as having put there himself, and a few he didn't) that wouldn't be able to be hidden, presumably being added to by Andrew's mouth on Dean's neck. Oh, and not to mention, Andrew Young's hand was shoved down Dean's pants, groping his hard length through his boxers.

Sam froze. Sure, he'd heard Dean before he actually saw him, but actually seeing him in such a compromising situation made it all the more real to Sam.

Sam made it appoint to step firmly on a stick next to his left foot, hoping the sound would be enough to pull the two canoodling teenagers out of their moment.

Dean's eyes opened first, his mind still hazy from the pleasure as Andrew lifted his head from his assault on Dean's neck, making eye contact with Sam.

"Beat it, kid," Andrew ordered just as Dean's mind seemed to catch up to speed. "Sammy!"

Sam shook his head in disbelief as Dean tried to shove Andrew away from him, the larger boy going easily.

"Dean?" Andrew asked, confused.

"Sammy..." Dean trailed, trying to step closer to his brother.

Sam's knuckles turned white, his grip on the softball almost dangerous, his top lip twitching with anger.

"Sam, say something," Dean pleaded, the fact that his jeans were still unbuttoned and hanging open on his hips only adding fuel to Sam's fire.

Sam knew exactly why he did it, but also knew that it probably wasn't the wisest of decisions when he then hurtled the softball directly at his brother as hard as he could, taking off running in the direction of the softball fields immediately after.

* * *

 

"Dean?" Andrew asked again, his voice softer now after seeing the guy he'd been hooking up with have a softball chucked at his head.

"I'm sorry, 'Drew, I- I have to go find him," Dean stammers.

"Now wait a minute," Andrew said, his hand latching firmly but not roughly onto Dean's arm.

"He's gonna be so mad at me," Dean whimpered, almost to himself, slumping into Andrew's side unconsciously.

"That was your brother, right?" Andrew questioned, trying to get the story, hoping to figure it out.

Dean nodded, feeling dizzy with how much he knew he'd hurt his brother.

"So... Does he not know you're into guys or something? I don't get it."

"N-no. Sammy's just-- kid ain't really got many people. We're close. Probably thinks I'm not gonna want to spend time with him anymore," Dean lied, concealing the exact nature of his and Sam's relationship.

"Well, he's your brother. He can't stay mad at you forever. And when he does eventually talk to you, explain that that's not going to happen. He'll understand."

_No, he won't_.

Andrew squeezed Dean's shoulder reassuringly, "Just go talk to him. It'll be fine."

The final school bell rang signaling student dismissal and Dean shot Andrew an apologetic look before running out to the side field where Sam's class was heading back inside.

Dean saw his brother almost immediately, shaggy brown hair falling over his ears, hands stuffed into his pockets as he walked next to a blonde girl, seemingly chatting back and forth with her.

Dean picked up his pace, coming up next to Sam quickly, "Sam, talk to me."

Sam didn't answer, only sped up his own pace to get away from his brother. The blonde girl, in turn, quickened too, getting right up next to Sam again.

"You can't ignore me forever!" Dean shouted, only letting up when Sam's class went back into the gym through an outside door, blonde still riding dangerously close to his brother.

Dean grumbled and kicked some gravel out of spite before heading out to the Impala, keys in hand.

Dean caught Andrew Young's eyes as the students shuffled out to the busses and Andrew quirked an eyebrow at Dean, wondering how things went with Sam.

Dean shrugged, _what the hell_. Dean took a step closer to Andrew, watching as Andrew tapped his sister's arm to let her know he would be right back before meeting Dean in the middle of the sidewalk.

"You okay?" Andrew asked, genuine concern in the words.

"He's not gonna talk to me. You and your sister wanna go get drunk with me at the creek? That's about all I got planned."

"Amber probably won't-- She's got work-- but I'm up for it," Andrew smiled down at Dean, pearly whites shining in the sun.

"I'll come pick you up in about an hour. I gotta drive Sammy home, but I'll see you later," Dean told him.

Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out a cellular flip phone, handing it to Dean,

"Put your phone number in there. I'll text you so you have mine and you text me when you're on your way."

Dean nodded and punched in ten digits, catching out of the corner of his eye Sam coming out of the gym with that blonde still on his arm.

By the looks of it, Sam saw Dean too-- punching his number into Andrew's cell phone.

Dean handed the cell back to Andrew and smiles up at him before starting toward his brother. This time, Sam went with Dean easily, if only for the reason that he has no other ride home.

"You gonna talk to me yet?" Dean asked, already prepared for the silent treatment to continue.

"You gave him your phone number," Sam almost whispered.

"I did. So I can text him later when I'm on my way to pick him up to go drink by the creek."

Sam waited until both boys were in the car and Dean was driving to say something, "Am I not good enough for you or something, Dean?"

Dean grumbled.

"Sammy, you're more than enough for me. You know that. You're just a kid. And sometimes I need to blow off a little steam. It's not easy being-- physically, romantically, whatever-- attracted to my baby brother. I just need to blow off some steam sometimes."

"Blow off steam?!" Sam shouted. "Blow off steam by blowing some random jock, right?"

"Sammy-"

"Don't, Dean. Drop me off at the motel and go have fun with him," Sam spat, turning away from his brother as much as he could in the confined space of the Impala.

As soon as the Impala pulled into the motel parking lot, Sam was out the door and headed inside.

Dean didn't bother to follow, knowing it wouldn't get him anywhere.

Dean pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, the weight of it heavy in his hand and heavy in his heart.

_On my way, stopping for beer. Give me ten._

Dean closed his phone, shifting the car back into drive and heading off toward the liquor store where he flashed his fake ID that said he's a twenty-two year-old named Kevin Grimes.

Dean grabbed two six packs and shoves them in the passenger seat before checking his cell phone to see where he's supposed to pick Andrew up from.

_118 S Denver Drive. See you soon._

* * *

 

Dean cracked the top off of his second beer, perched on the hood of the Impala next to Andrew, fingers drumming the tune to Warrant's _Cherry Pie_ on the hood.

"So what happened with your brother?" Andrew asked as he nursed his own beer.

"Nothing. He didn't say a word to me the whole ride home," Dean lied.

"Can I ask you something?" Andrew asked, hesitation evident in his voice.

Dean nodded, his mouth too full of beer to answer vocally.

"Can I kiss you?"

Dean nodded again, this time not because his mouth was already occupied, but because he didn't think he could will his tongue to work if he tried.

Andrew's hand pressed gently to the side of Dean's arm before the taller boy leaned forward, capturing Dean's lips with his own.

Dean involuntarily groaned against Andrew's mouth when Andrew traced his tongue over the crease of Dean's lips, delving inside when Dean's mouth opened for him.

Dean's head was swimming. On one hand, he missed Sammy, wanted Sammy, wished this was Sammy making him fall apart. But on the other hand, Andrew was tall and stocky and all firm muscle and hard lines and that felt _goo_ d pressed against Dean.

Dean wasn't sure if it was two minutes or ten, but when Andrew's hand started to trail down his chest, seeking out the already-hard package Dean was packing, Dean's breath hitched.

"Dean," Andrew moaned, his fingers tracing the hard line of Dean's cock through his jeans.

"Touch me," Dean said easily, almost as an order.

And Andrew had no problems obliging the beautiful man beneath him, palming Dean's hard cock through his jeans with just enough pressure to ease some tension, but not enough to get off.

Dean leaned his head backward on the windshield, his breaths coming in pants as Andrew rubbed him through his jeans.

Andrew leaned forward more so he was hovering over Dean before slotting his hips with Dean's and rutting against him in slow, dirty circles.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean groaned, his cock throbbing in his jeans, the hot hardness of Andrew's matching erection creating delicious friction for him.

And then it hit him. _Sam_. Dean froze and Andrew noticed almost immediately, retracting from the smaller boy beneath him.

"What's wrong, Dean?" Andrew asked, his almost-too-long hair falling onto his forehead haphazardly.

"I-- Andrew, I need to go home. I'm sorry."

Dean rolled off the hood of the Impala, his hands shaking only slightly when he tried to put the key in the ignition.

Andrew opened the passenger door with a squeak as he sat down, confusion written all over his tanned face.

"Dean, your brother will talk to you when he's ready. No sense in ruining a good thing when you don't even know if he'll be there."

"He will be."

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later saw Dean sitting in the car park of the motel of the week, chugging down his second beer since dropping Andrew back off at his house.

Dean swallowed audibly, shutting the car off and getting out, slamming the door behind him before apologizing to Baby for hurting her.

His hands were shaking slightly as he stuck the key into the door, pushing the door back and saying a silent prayer to whoever was listening in hopes that Sam would still be home.

"Sammy?" Dean asked apprehensively, breaching the threshold of the motel room.

His head swiveled around slightly until his eyes caught sight of a small, tanned frame sitting at the kitchenette, working a pencil eraser between his teeth. Sam didn't acknowledge Dean's arrival, choosing instead to continue staring blankly at what looked to be Algebra homework.

"Sammy?"

"I'm not deaf," was the only reply Dean got from his baby brother/"boyfriend".

Dean moved forward enough to be directly in Sam's line of sight, if only to try to get the kid's attention.

"C'mon, baby. Don't be mad at me," Dean plead. "Dad's gone for two weeks. We shouldn't be spending this alone time like this."

"Then you shouldn't have hooked up with that jock. You made your bed, Dean. Now it's time to lie down in it."

Dean stayed silent for a moment. Sam was right-- he knew that. Dean knew it was wrong of him to look elsewhere for pleasure.

"And I mean that both figuratively and literally. You're sleeping in the other bed tonight," Sam informed his brother, knowing how much it would hurt him to know he wasn't going to wake up to Sam's coltish legs wrapped around his own and the smell of Sam's girly shampoo under his nose.

"Sammy..." Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping as he reached into the refrigerator for one of the beers his father had left behind.

Dean cracked the top off of his bottle and tipped it back, spilling the amber liquid down his throat.

"I'm sorry, okay? Let's just forget this happened and go take a shower. What'd'ya say?" Dean nudged Sam's shoulder with his own as he sat down beside him.

"I say, go fuck yourself, Dean."

Sam closed his Algebra book, standing up from next to Dean and moving over to the bed-- as far away from Dean as he can get in the small motel room.

"What do you want from me, baby boy? I fucked up. I know that now."

Dean stood up and walked cautiously over toward his brother, waiting for him to bolt. But it never happened. Sam appeared rooted in place.

"What do you want, a cookie?" Sam spat, his voice angry and cold.

Dean sat down next to his brother again, his eyes searching Sam's face for a sign of something-- anything-- other than anger.

Sam stood slowly, almost as if he was contemplating the action as it was happening. Dean, equally as slowly, reached out and closed his fingers around Sam's wrist, turning the boy around to face him.

"Sammy? C'mere, baby. Please," Dean's grip on Sam's wrist loosened when he realized Sam was actually stepping closer, spreading his legs slightly to slide himself into his brother's lap.

"De, you don't seem to realize how much you hurt me today," Sam's voice was cracking, his fingers twisting into the shoulders of Dean's shirt.

Dean pulled his plump bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, hating himself for hurting the person who means more to him than anyone.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered, resting his palms on Sam's spread thighs.

It was then that Sam's entire demeanor changed; His hands slipped down from Dean's shoulders to his chest and roughly pushed his brother backward until his back hit the bed. The breath wooshed out of Dean's lungs in an instant before he had wild hazel eyes boring into his and blunt fingernails pulling at his hair.

"Sammy--"

"Shut up," Sam ordered and just the tone of his voice (and probably the fact that Sam's butt was pressed firmly against Dean's groin) had Dean's cock springing to life in his jeans. "Don't you dare tell me you're sorry. You're not sorry you did it, you're sorry you got caught. So now you're going to swallow your pride and listen to me for once."

Dean gulped down a lump in his throat as a full-body shiver ran through him, trying to will himself away from thrusting his hips up against Sam.

Sam rarely got dominant with his brother, if ever, favoring instead to let Dean do all the work. But it was clear that today, since seeing Dean with Andrew, that the fire in Sam's bones was ignited and Dean was perfectly fine with letting Sam run the show if it would in turn ease the anger he's feeling.

"Take your shirt off," Sam said, voice even but still demanding.

Sam released his brother's hair so Dean can remove his own shirt while Sam did the same. While Sam wrestled his own shirt off, Dean tried his absolute best-- he swears he did-- to ignore the movements Sam's hips made, but in the end, his instincts took over and his hips bucked up to rub against his brother's pert ass.

Once Sam's shirt was gone, the smaller boy tossed the shirt to the side, feeling the way his older brother was rutting against him. Sam leaned down, coming about an inch away from his brother, making sure to grind himself down against his brother as he moved.

"You're loving this, aren't you, De? Being pinned down, waiting for me to do something, letting me take what I want."

As if Dean didn't already know he was enjoying the hell out of this, when he felt his dick give an excited twitch and blurt out a glob of precome into his already wet boxers, all he could think about was flipping this over and getting his mouth on his baby brother (Which he so totally could have done with ease, but it was far too fun to let Sammy continue what he was doing).

Sam slid down further so his butt was positioned on Dean's thighs, breaking that delicious friction on his cock. Dean whimpered at the loss, but it was cut short when nimble fingers began to pull at his jeans, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down.

Sam peeled the jeans and boxers off, tossing them toward the kitchen, but not giving another thought to it. Sam also resolutely did not comment on how wet Dean had gotten just being pinned down by his brother.

"You gonna do something, Sammy? Or am I gonna have to do it myself. You all bark and no bite, baby boy?" Dean taunted lightly, made less intimidating by the fact that his breaths were coming in short pants, his hands now balled into fists on the sheets below him.

"Oh, I'll show you bite, De," and just like that, Sam leaned down and sunk his teeth into his brother's clavicle, making the older man yelp.

Sam released Dean's clavicle, sitting back upright, admiring the naked man beneath him.

"So, De," Sam drawled, fingers dancing down his brother's chest. "How was it? With him?"

Dean opened his mouth to argue with Sam's line of questioning, but said brother's thumbs dug into the dip of Dean's hips just this side of painful, and Dean lost his train of thought.

"Did you let him touch you? Let him do this," Sam punctuated his question by wrapping his thin fingers tight around Dean's shaft, making the older brother's back arch in surprise. "Maybe let him do this."

Sam leaned forward again, not losing his grip on Dean's cock and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

"Jesus, fuck, Sammy!"

Sam pumped his hand up and down on his brother as his tongue swirled around Dean's nipple, the taller boy wriggling and whining with the pleasure of it as his fists threatened to tear holes in the bed sheets.

"Sa-Sammy, baby, didn't let him touch me. Swear, he didn't," Dean keened, only partially lying.

_Technically_ Andrew _had_ been touching him through his boxers when Sam caught them, and _technically_ he _had_ been groping him through his jeans by the lake, but no skin on skin.

"Liar," Sam hissed, retreating from his squirming brother, deciding then to lose his own jeans after seeing on Dean's thighs where his jeans were creating red marks.

Sam popped open the button on his jeans, watching as Dean sat upright, eyes trained on his stripping brother. Sam hooked his thumbs into the waist of his jeans, only pulling down slightly, enough to expose the bulge in Sam's boxers, a wet patch seeping through where the head of his dick poked out.

Sam shimmied his hips out of his jeans, kicking them off, paying no mind to where they ended up and smirking to himself when he noticed Dean had his own hand wrapped around his cock, jacking himself as he watched Sam.

Sam left his underwear on, sauntering back over to the bed with Dean, this time sliding himself up to the head, sprawling himself out.

Dean turned around, hand still mindlessly pumping his shaft as he kneeled up on the bed by Sam's feet.

"Look so fuckin' good, Sammy. Wanna just eat you up," Dean groaned, wanting more than anything to reach over and touch his brother.

Sam's shaggy hair splayed out around his head like a halo, his soft features and baby-fat still clinging to his cheeks the only thing giving away Sam's young age.

"Where's the fun in that, De? Tonight, you're just gonna watch."

Sam sent a wink with far too much heat for a fifteen-year-old at his brother before tracing his hand down his stomach, delving down inside his underwear to grasp his now very hard and leaking length.

Dean let out an involuntary moan, his own hand stilling on his dick, knowing he's going to want to see all of what Sam's got planned and not ruin it by coming too soon.

Sam tucked the waistband underneath his balls, now nothing obstructing Dean's view of his brother.

Sam's hand was moving at a pace that could only be called leisurely. Sam was going to take this slow-- force Dean to watch for longer than it would usually take.

"Bein' a fuckin' tease, Sammy," Dean groaned, legs shaking as he watched his brother jack off.

Sam smirked. Dean knew what that look meant, almost as if he could read Sam's mind. _You ain't seen nothin' yet_.

Sam slipped his free hand underneath the pillow behind his head and produced a small tube of lube-- the same one Dean stuck under every motel pillow they've stayed in since they started this whole thing in case they felt the need to get frisky when Dad was home and didn't want to wake him by rustling through their duffles.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean cussed, knowing exactly what Sam was going to do next.

Sam laid the lube on his his chest to free his hand and pushed his boxers the rest of the way down, kicking them off and spreading his legs more, planting his feet flat on the bed.

Dean's eyes immediately focused in on Sam's newly exposed entrance.

"Enjoying yourself, De?" Sam asked, though it was more than obvious how turned on Dean was by this.

Dean nodded. His throat had gone completely dry as he watched Sam slick up three fingers.

Sam circled one fingertip around his hole before pushing in only to the first knuckle, working his cock with the other hand. Eventually, Sam could push the first finger in and out with no pain so he added the second, then the third when he met no resistance.

Dean watched with amazement as his baby brother fucked himself with his fingers, involuntary little moans leaving Dean's throat at regular intervals.

Dean itched to reach over and take Sam's fingers out of his ass and replace them with his own, but knew this would all be over if he did.

"C'mon, Sammy, you gotta let me," Dean pled, his voice gone gravelly with want.

"Not a chance," Sam replied, only his voice giving away that he wasn't as relaxed about this as he tried to make it seem.

Sam's hand on his cock was speeding up, his fingers now pounding into his hole with abandon and his teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip.

"Then at least let me hear you, baby."

Sam released his lip, letting out the most delicious sounds Dean had ever heard.

"'M close, De. So fuckin' close. Want you to see it. Want you to watch me come on my fingers," Sam told his brother, his hips rising to meet every thrust of his fingers.

Dean's hand sped up on his own dick, his heart racing. Dean couldn't believe the sight before him.

"Jesus, Sammy. God, so fuckin' hot, baby. Wanna see you come," Dean grunted, his own orgasm drawing closer and closer. "Come for me, baby, c'mon, come for your big brother."

And even Sam seemed surprised when that actually _worked_ , his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. Dean finished not a second later after seeing Sam's back arch up, fingers still buried in his ass, hand working his cock through each burst of pleasure.

Sam's come landed everywhere-- his stomach, his chest, his cheeks, his hair and even one particularly long rope shot as far up to hit the headboard of the bed. Dean jerked his own dick through his orgasm, struggling to keep his eyes open to watch his own release splatter between his own hand and groin and his brother's.

Dean dropped down onto his stomach, head landing on the pillow beside Sam.

Dean's mind was still fuzzy when he felt Sam take hold of the hand that had been jacking himself off, but he caught up quick when Sam's tongue began to trace over his come-covered fingers.

"Mmmm," Dean moaned, letting Sam continue to take what he wanted.

Sam sucked each finger clean before turning into his side, the come on his stomach now somewhat hardened, but still dripping onto the blanket beneath him.

"De?" Sam asked, an apprehension in his voice that Dean longed to kiss away.

"Yeah, baby?" Dean replied, turning onto his own side to look down at his brother.

"You don't really have to sleep in the other bed tonight." Dean quirked a half smile, reaching over to pull Sam closer.

Dean couldn't vocally reply to Sam, if only because Sam had started to tangle his fingers into Dean's hair and pull his head downward into a soft, hesitant kiss.

"Love you, Sammy," Dean whispered against his brother's mouth, but what he really meant was, ' _I'm sorry, Sammy_.'

And when Sam replied with, "Love you too, De," Dean knew Sam was also saying, ' _I forgive you, De_.' and that was just about music to Dean's ears.


End file.
